"I feel like an idiot."
Bob was sitting on the edge of Matt's bed in just his shorts, with his arms crossed over his chest. He had his feet crossed at the ankles, too, and his knees kept swaying toward each other like he wanted to clamp them together.
Matt did not laugh, or even giggle, but he couldn't hold back a grin as he pulled his chair closer to the bed.
"Dude, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before." He stretched his legs out and propped his feet on the bed and settled back, fingers linked loosely on his stomach.
Bob made a face at him. "Yeah, but usually you're naked too at that point."
"I'm sure I'll get naked eventually." He let his eyes drift over Bob, and tried to think of a way the evening could end without him getting naked too. He couldn't. It wasn't a failure of imagination; actually, his imagination could come up with quite a few scenarios involving himself in his bedroom with a naked Bob. They just all happened to end with mutual nakedness.
But Bob looked really uncomfortable, so Matt said, "But, look, if you really don't want to do this, it's fine."
For a second Bob just sat, sucking at the corner of his lip, brow furrowed. Just as Matt was starting to feel kind of bad about the whole thing, getting ready to apologize and suggest they do something else, Bob let out a breath and brought his eyes up to meet Matt's.
"No. No, I just. Wanted to go on record, that I feel like an idiot." He looked at the floor again as he stood, and added, "And if this is totally not hot at all, it's not my fault."
Then Matt did feel bad, but only for a second, and only because it occurred to him that Bob really had no idea how much of a turn-on it was just to sit there and watch him do things like self-consciously nudge his boxers off his hips, and slide them down until they could slip down his legs on their own.
Swallowing a few times, because his mouth had started to water, Matt decided that actually, he was doing his boyfriend a favor. Bob was going to be educated on his own hotness. Then he would be happy. And Matt would be very happy. And it would be awesome.
"I can live with that," Matt said.
It came out a little breathier than he'd intended, and it made Bob flush.
"So," Bob said.
Matt forced his eyes northward and smiled.
Under his breath, mostly to himself, Bob muttered, "Okay."
He started small. Just raised a hand, pressed it against his stomach and stroked up. He wouldn't meet Matt's eyes; first his gaze slid off to the side, and then his eyes closed.
Then he lifted his other hand, let it drift over his hip and down, and brushed his fingers down the length of his cock.
It made his breath hitch. "So," he said, so softly Matt could barely hear him. Then just a little louder. "So did you, is this --"
Matt found himself nodding slowly, stupidly, because he was too busy watching Bob's fingers lightly stroke himself, tentatively play with himself, to remember Bob's eyes were closed.
"Yeah," he said. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. He wasn't hard yet, but he felt warm in really nice places already. "Like that."
"Okay," Bob said again.
He let his hand curl around his inner thigh, then turned it. While his fingers stroked over his balls, the flat of his palm pressed against his cock. Then his hand wrapped around it and gave a slow, uncertain pull.
"Get yourself hard," Matt murmured.
Bob nodded, and continued to stroke himself. He was so close, just an arm's length away; Matt could hear him swallow hard, and see the flush spreading from his face down to his chest. It was all Matt could do not to reach out, or slide off the chair to his knees and help Bob's hand out with his mouth.
He held back, though. He wanted to watch this time.
And it was the very best kind of show, too, the awkward but steady tug and slide of Bob's hand. Bob was doing it dry and loose, like having an audience made him forget the best way to jerk off, so his reaction was slow. Slow and steady. The head of his cock started to darken, turn rosy; his shaft slowly, slowly filled out. His breath caught more often, a little stifled gasp each time his hand interrupted its up and down rhythm to smooth over the head of his cock.
Matt said "Stop" without even thinking. When Bob froze, he clarified. "I want to see. Let me see."
Bob hesitated, then moved his hand away. His hand fell to his side, curling briefly and then flattening against his thigh. His cock jutted out, just a bit; Matt wondered if Bob could feel his gaze because in the brief pause while he let himself just stare and admire, Bob's cock twitched.
Bob's hand twitched, too, the hand still held up and pressed against his chest. It was a funny stance, like Bob maybe felt slightly less exposed if he at least covered that much of himself up. In the space between his thumb and fingers, his nipple had gone hard and puckered. Matt thought about standing up and getting his mouth on it -- nuzzling Bob's hand aside and catching the pink nub between his teeth. He could almost feel the heat of Bob's skin on his lips, the shape of his nipple on his tongue.
The little moan escaped before he could stop it. Bob started and opened his eyes. The way his eyes widened, and his lips parted, made Matt wonder about the expression on his own face. He suspected it was pretty true to how he was feeling.
He bit his lip and smiled, shifting his hips to get a little friction between his jeans and his own hardening cock, and said, "Sit down."
Stretching to reach the bedside table, Matt pulled open the drawer and fished around blindly for the lube. He tossed it onto the bed beside Bob.
He didn't have to tell Bob to slick up. Leaning back on one hand, Bob used the other to smear a dollop of lube down the length of his cock. He left one leg hanging of the bed, but pulled the other up, spreading his legs. The way he watched Matt when he did it made Matt squirm again.
"Yeah, there you go," he said. "Show me."
Heat pooled in his own groin and sent a warm flush through him as he watched the shiny, slick head of Bob's cock slip through the circle of his hand.
"Fuck," Matt said, and palmed his crotch.
Bob let out a laugh, half embarrassed, half surprised, and maybe just a little bit pleased.
"You get off on the weirdest shit," he said.
"I get off on the hottest shit," Matt corrected, and then clarified, "Fucking hell, Bob, you look amazing."
"Yeah?" Bob said. He caught his lip between his teeth to turn a groan into a stifled hum. "Think how amazing I'd look with you fucking me."
And oh, that was just admirably cruel. "You motherfucker," Matt groaned. He grabbed himself and squeezed, though, and did not fall for Bob's dirty trick.
Although, it did give him an idea. The image that came to mind made his cock jump in his hand and suddenly his jeans were almost painfully tight.
He scooted up in his chair, his feet thumping to the floor, so that he could lean over and see into the open drawer.
When he found what he was looking for, he plucked it out, and crawled onto the bed.
Bob watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. The flush across his cheeks and the way his tongue flicked out and wetted his lip made Matt need to kiss him, so he did.
The kiss was soft, oddly tentative given how much kissing they'd done over the past couple of months. It echoed the way uncertainty underscored the heat in Bob's eyes.
Matt pulled back long enough to say, "No, don't touch me," when Bob started to reach for him. Matt positioned himself stretched out away from Bob, and when he kissed him again, only their mouths touched.
It was a really hard position to maintain, especially now that he was so close. He could feel Bob's warmth and the shift of his body as he stroked himself; he could smell the musky scent of Bob's arousal, too, and he wanted to taste it.
But he just caught Bob's lip between his teeth and gave it a sharp tug. It made Bob gasp a delicious little moan.
Then Matt laid the dildo on Bob's stomach. When Bob looked down and saw what it was, Matt said, "Actually, I think I'd like to see how amazing you look fucking yourself."
The look in Bob's eyes when he glanced at Matt again was that embarrassed, I-feel-stupid look. Matt was not swayed. Unlike Bob, he was absolutely, passionately certain Bob was going to look so unbelievably good.
Pushing up to sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed, Matt popped the button on his jeans and worked the zipper down.
"Scoot up," he motioned toward the head of the bed.
Bob did, slowly, a little grudgingly, holding the dildo but not looking at it, his expression still embarrassed.
While Bob lubed the dildo -- looking at it as little as possible; it was so fucking cute Matt had to fight not to laugh or kiss him again -- Matt worked his cock out of his pants. That was as naked as he was going to get at the moment, but it was a necessary concession. Blue balls sucked, seriously.
"Spread your legs," he said, grinning when Bob shot him a glare.
"I know," Bob said, but barely spread them at all.
Matt let Bob drop his head back onto the pillow before he said, low and very seriously, "Spread your legs, Bob. More."
There was a pause, and then Bob turned his head toward Matt. He caught Matt's eyes and held them while he pulled his knees up further and slowly slid his feet apart.
When he was spread as far as he could go without too much discomfort, Matt said softly, "Good. That's good. Now." He flicked his eyes to the slicked-up dildo, then back to Bob's. "Let's see it."
Bob turned away, eyes to the ceiling. Cupping his free hand beneath his balls, he kneaded them a moment, and then drew his hand up enough so that he had balls and hard, glistening cock gripped loosely. Then he slid the head of the dildo down, leaving a shiny trail over the crease of his leg, down to his hole.
He paused again. Matt couldn't hold in a frustrated sound; he was so fucking turned on he could hardly stand it and he wanted, he needed --
"Fucking tease," he gasped, groaning helplessly and giving his cock another hard squeeze to hold himself off. "Fucking do it."
He might have seen the flicker of a smile play across Bob's lips, but it vanished when Bob caught his lip between his teeth.
Shifting his grip on the dildo, he pressed. His hole stretched around it, and he pressed a little more, slowly, steadily. He let out a soft, breathy grunt as it breached him and sank in.
Matt wanted to tell him 'yes' and 'more, come on,' but he felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. All he could do was watch.
Bob shifted his grip again, and pushed the dildo in. He didn't hurry it; he went by agonizing -- for Matt, anyway -- increments. The deeper it went, the more he stretched around it, the more helpless moans and grunts he couldn't hold back --
-- and then it bottomed out. Bob's hand stilled, and he shuddered, a sharp breath shaking out of him.
Matt echoed the sigh with a long groan. For a moment, the spell broke, and Matt let go of himself so he could give his hand a few sloppy licks. He leaned back and spread his legs a little, his cock bouncing against his stomach. Somehow he managed to form words.
"Bob. I want to see you fuck yourself."
Bob gasped in a breath, and his "Matt" sounded trembly and broken.
For a moment he just lay there panting. But then he shifted his grip on the dildo again, and started to fuck himself. He pulled the dildo out, until just the head was in, and the pushed it back in. Then out, then in; every slide out sounded slick and wet. He didn't speed up but every shove in got harsher.
Then he pulled it out, shifted the angle, and fucked it back in hard enough to make his body jerk.
Then again. Each time he plunged the dildo in he forced helpless, broken moan, or gasp, or a filthy-sounding grunt out of himself.
"Jesus, Bob." Matt stroked himself, matching Bob's pace. "Jesus, do it harder. Fuck yourself harder."
"Matt," Bob said. "Matt, Matt," like he didn't know he was saying it. He did what Matt told him; every time Matt said "More" or "Harder" he gave it to himself rougher and deeper. His legs started to shake. Letting go of his cock, Bob flung his hand up and gripped the headboard to brace himself.
That left his cock hard and slick with lube, milky pre-come gathering in the slit. Rolling awkwardly onto his side and shifting around, Matt stretched out on his stomach. He leaned his cheek against Bob's shin, propping himself up on one arm and reaching around Bob's leg with his other hand.
It broke his own rule, that he would make Bob get himself off and just watch, but Bob's cock felt so hot and perfect in his hand, and his name on Bob's lips broke off with a strangled whine, and it was so worth it.
He was so close, too, right there when Bob plunged the dildo in one more time and then jerked -- perfect view of Bob's hole clenching and clenching, stretched so tight around it -- and the way Bob's cock pulsed in his hand as he came -- Matt squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face against Bob's leg. A couple desperate humps against the bed and he was coming too.
It took a few moments, a little space of time where he didn't notice he was laying in a slimy wet spot, and that his shoulder was cramping from the way he had himself propped up. A few moments of just breathing, of rubbing little almost-circles on Bob's stomach, trailing his fingertips through the come pooling there without really thinking about it.
Finally he caught his breath. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Bob. "Damn."
Bob had his arm slung over his face; his answer was the other hand drifting up and then plopping bonelessly onto Matt's head.
Since it had to be done and Matt felt vaguely like he owed Bob one, or a million, Matt got a hold of the end of the dildo and pulled it slowly out. Bob let out a gasp and a "hhhohfuck" and shuddered, which made Matt snort out a giggle.
He dropped the dildo off the side of the bed. Rolling away from Bob just enough so they weren't touching anymore, Matt tugged his shirt off. He used it to wipe off his stomach and his cock, tossed it to Bob to clean himself up, and started shimmying out of his pants.
"Oh," Bob said. "Now you get naked? That's great."
Matt could hear the smile in his voice, though. He got his pants kicked off and grabbed a blanket off the floor, and then crawled up alongside Bob.
"Fuck that," he said. "Me naked is nothing. You naked is, like. Fuck. Naked hotass."
Bob snickered and moved his arm off his face to look at Matt. His eyes were extra bright, extra blue, and his smiled was sated and relaxed. Also a little smug.
And completely unembarrassed. Like, Matt was willing to bet that 'embarrassed' and 'I feel stupid' were not in Bob's vocabulary at the moment.
If it wouldn't have taken too much effort, Matt would have patted himself on the back.
"What the hell kind of language is that? " Bob said. "Is that like, Tarzan? Porny Tarzan. Me naked, you Jane."
Laughing against Bob's chest, Matt said, "Yeah, something like that."
He pulled the blanket up over them both, wriggling around until he was mostly draped over Bob. The light was still on but he couldn't really bring himself to care.
"Or like," Matt said. "Me Jane, you sexy beast."
Bob mmphed a tired laugh and said, "Whatever."
"You totally felt as amazingly hot as you looked, didn't you."
This time Bob groaned and whapped Matt half-heartedly on the back of the head. "God, please shut up, seriously."
For a moment they laid there in silence, and Matt started to wonder if he could bribe Bob to reach over and turn off the lamp.
Then Bob cleared his throat lightly and said, "But, um, you know, I was thinking that maybe next time...I could watch. While. You know."
Matt shoved up onto an elbow and grinned down at Bob. "Why, because you think it will be hot to watch me do that? Because you know how totally fucking hot you looked doing it?"
Grabbing the edge of the blanket, Bob yanked it up over his head and rolled over. He mumbled something that sounded like, "No. Yes. Maybe," and then cut himself off and said gruffly, "Just, turn off the fucking light. I wanna sleep."
Leaning up, Matt planted a kiss on Bob's blanket-covered head. It made Bob grumble incoherently and unconvincingly, so Matt reached over Bob and switched off the lamp, wormed under the blanket, and kissed him again.